Dust Motes in Light

Breathe in.

Slow, like morning light

crawling across a windowsill.

Pause.

Let your shoulders

drop.

A hush lingers

in the corner of the room,

dancing in golden threads—

tiny specks suspended,

unhurried.

Breathe out.

Let it all go.

The silence has shape here.

It rests beside you.

It doesn’t ask for anything.

Close your eyes.

Let the weight shift.

Let the stillness settle.

There is movement

even in still air.

There is life

in the pause.

Breathe in.

Feel the pull

of quiet things—

the way dust drifts

without effort,

the way your breath

returns

home.

Rest.

There is nothing to chase.

Nothing to change.

Only this

soft

now.

Breathe out.

Let it pass through you.

Let it stay,

if it must.

Still.

Again,

still.